What If?
by EsotericSpell
Summary: What if Frodo had handed the Ring over? What if Galadriel was a guy? What if Gandalf hadn't fallen in Moria? Find out in here. I think this'll be rated K, although I may go up one notch in some chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- You read the description. Pretty much states it all there. Not much else to say…**

**Disclaimer- **

**Merry: Lyndz does not own anything, except a few CDs, a couple of movies, the Organization of the Random, and Marvin.**

**Lyndz: Merry, you and Pippin are officially my favorite muses. The rest of you suck.**

**Other Muses: Boo-hoo.**

**Lyndz: Why don't you like me?**

**Muses: You keep us locked up in a dungeon for one, and secondly, the only muses who've eaten in the past week are Merry and Pippin.**

**Lyndz: Fine. You can hang out in the SMSC lounge, but you can't run away.**

**Muses: Agreed.**

**Lyndz: Alrighty then. On with the story.**

**What if Frodo had given the Ring over to Sauron?**

Frodo was feeling absolutely depressed. He desperately wished that this stupid quest were over with. He hadn't had tea or cakes in weeks, Strider smelled terrible, Merry and Pippin were quickly losing it without their daily ale, and Sam was way to into this quest thing. He says he doesn't trust Strider, but he's already told the Ranger all about Rosie.

And, to make matters worse, whenever he tried to get rid of the stupid Ring, somebody stopped him.

The Ringwraith was just above them back at the road. He could have told them that the Ring made him put it on, and the wraith had said he would not hurt them had they handed it over. He seemed like a being of his word. But, no, Sam had to go and stop Frodo's hand. It could have ended there.

Then, at the Prancing Pony, Strider foiled his plan, twice! First, Frodo was sure that if had he kept the Ring on for long enough and walked far enough, Sauron could have taken the Ring, and besides, what could an _eye _do with a ring?

That night, all the Ringwraiths were right there, but Strider insisted that now was not the time for a bathroom break. Boy, would he have been sorry had Frodo actually had to go, and went on his precious sword.

But, this time he would not fail. They were to meet Gandalf at Weathertop, and if the hobbit happened to drop it off the top, who could blame him? As an extra bonus, Strider claimed the nine were chasing their little group, and would catch up soon. Surely, Frodo would not be at fault if the Ring fell midst the mad struggle to get away.

So, with that on his mind, and Pippin being hit on the head with an apple, Frodo smiled for the first time in days.

As Weathertop drew closer, Frodo felt better and better. He was going to be rid of the gaudy thing in no time at all.

So, the night the five finally reached the fallen watchtower, Frodo pretended to fall asleep, day dreaming of his home, positive that he would see Bag End soon. Later on that night, Merry, Pippin, and Sam predictably got hungry, and this was Frodo's chance.

Acting irritated, he kicked the fire right onto the carefully placed wood. From a distance, the message was clear: The One Ring is here. No cost. No returns.

_"And now, all I have to do is wait," _thought Frodo, smiling evilly in the dark.

The hobbit did not have to wait long, for within a couple of mere minutes, five of the nine had showed up. Frodo quite enjoyed watching his "friends" get beat up by cloaks, but he heard Strider in the distance, and decided to get a move on.

"Hi, I'm Frodo."

The leader wraith stepped/glided forward. "My name is Godric. These gallant fellows to my right are Jeff and Bob, and to my left we have Matt and Pat. They're twins. Now, you the one with the Ring?"

"Yep," Frodo said, smiling.

"Alright then, lets make this quick, because _Else Si _is on at ten, and Julie is having James' baby, even though she told both Susan and John that it was John's. Oh, and Derek's evil twin is back, and he threatened to kill Marie if Derek does not hand over their dead parents fortune. My sources also claim that one person who we thought died, comes back, ends up in a coma, awakes from said coma, and then spends an entire weekend _alone _with Leslie. Don't ask me how he can be alone and still snuggle with Leslie, because I don't know, that's just what I read, " Godric rambled on about his favourite Soap Opera.

Frodo was a bit taken back. Last he checked, Julie _was _having John's baby. He wondered if it was during the last month or so that viewers had learned that Julie cheated on John with his best friend and brother, James. "Okay," he said.

And he did, but before Godric, Jeff, Bob, Matt, and Pat left he called out, "Hey, uh, do you think you could possibly help me out? See, I'm not supposed to willingly hand the Ring over."

Godric smiled (Okay, Frodo assumed he smiled), "I like you, you respond well. Now, drink this vial quickly. I promise you, when I stab you ya' won't feel a thing, and the blood, well, that's unavoidable. Oh, and one more thing, make sure you scream in agony. Gives the illusion that it hurts, kapeesh?"

"Kapeesh," Frodo agreed, downing the vial, which, oddly enough, tasted decent.

Not wasting a second Godric forced his blade into Frodo's shoulder, and true to the wraith's word, it did not hurt a bit.

As Strider rushed in to save the wounded (cough, cough) Frodo, the wraiths ran, sensing their welcome was overdone.

"Thanks for the Ring!" they screamed, although to human (and elven, dwarf, and goblin) ears it just sounded like screeching.

"Did they get the Ring?" Strider asked, staring at the retreating forms of the Ringwraiths.

Frodo was flabbergasted. Here he was, stabbed for Eru's sake. He was bleeding his own blood, and all these… mindless, wannabe heroes care about is that ugly, cheap imitation of a ring!

The former ring bearer let out a fake, but surprisingly realistic low moan of pain. Strider wrenched his vision from the Ringwraiths' backs, and turned it towards the hobbit, as Sam ran over.

"Are you okay?" the gardener questioned.

Oh, how desperately Frodo wanted to stand up and scream: DO I LOOK LIKE I'M OKAY? DO YOU NOT SEE THIS GAPING MAW OF A WOUND? IT'S NOT PART OF THE ENSEMBLE!

Instead, he drew in a shaky breath and pointed to the stab.

Strider strided (he he) over, "This is from a Morgul-knife. Few now have the skill in healing to match such evil weapons."

And so, the four hobbits, and one future king set off to Rivendell, and along the way they met Glorfindarwen (conglomerate of Glorfindel and Arwen, if you hadn't already guessed. This satisfies both parties.). Although, much to Frodo's displeasure, no one was quite so eager to save his life now that the Ring had been lost.

The Council of Elrond still met, although that was more of a-they are already here so might as well go through with it- thing. While, the Fellowship wasn't formed, eight out of what would have been nine bonded over making fun of Frodo.

Ah, but my tale does not end here. Nay, I take you now to Mordor where, gasp, a huge party was in motion…

"WOO-HOO!" shouted a drunken Ringwraith. Ringwraith number six in fact, Joe.

Nazgul number nine, Pete, held up a very large mug of ale, "Par-Tay, everybody! Drinks are on me!

"You, are a moron," stated a _very _intoxicated Sauron, "didn't I just say that the drinks were on me?"

"Oh yeah… That is true. Drinks are on Sauron!" Pete corrected himself, shouting into the mass of partygoers.

Upon these words the entire party burst out shouting.

"You know what," Sauron said a little while later, "I love you guys. Without you, I…I don't know what I-

Zach (Ringwraith number seven) was closest to Sauron, and he swore he saw tears.

"You don't need to finish, man," Marvin, an orc, said clasping his hand on the Dark Lord's shoulders.

"Yeah, we know. We know," stated Saruman

There was silence as everyone nodded, which was remarkable because the orcs in the back were unfortunate enough not to have heard what was going on. I highly suspect it was a conformist moment for the lot.

The final wraith, Ray, broke said silence, "So, uh, what are you going to do with it?"

It, was of course the One Ring, which gleamed on Sauron's finger.

Morgoth's lieutenant shifted his gaze to the Ring, and quite soberly declared, "Well, we could run around, reeking havoc, destroying lives, and generally making everybody's' lives miserable…"

He paused, as if to consider the option, then continued, "But, that's too predictable. I want to go bold. Oooooo. What if… we don't do that. We'll ignore 'em for a couple of years, and then attack them with balloons. Them are real killers they are. Just the other day one blew up in my face it did. They'll never expect it."

Okay, so maybe, just maybe, Sauron wasn't sober. Luckily, for our heroes, everyone else was completely wasted too.

Wisely, no one commented on his absurd grammar, although everyone may have been too drunk to notice.

Everyone agreed. The plan was perfect. They did not have to do any of that messy business. The balloons would do it for them. The plan was fool proof.

Sauron smiled, "It has been such a long time since I have taken a good look at my Ring, and it is dreadfully dark in here. Black is definitely not my color. It's so drab, and I'm so, flamboyant. We are so redecorating. I'm thinking yellow, no, pink, no… bright orange."

He smiled, envisioning the new look,

"Now, about this light problem. Here's what we will do: Take a nice walk over to Mt. Doom. I must rename that by the way. Hello, morbid? It is bright in there, right. Excellent, let us go!"

So, they did. Well, actually nine Ringwraiths, four orcs, Wormtongue, an evil Istari, and the Dark Lord trekked their way to the now called Mt. Hitchenwylderwatastracha (don't ask…).

"Whew, it is hot in here," exclaimed Godric, cramming onto the small walk space.

"Yes, but the light! Isn't it amazing?" declared Saruman, leaning in to get a better look at the object all of them had worked so hard to obtain.

Sauron held the Ring up above his head, not unlike Gollum would have done at this very spot, but at that precise moment Bob sneezed, taking the Dark Lord by surprise. He flung up his hands and when Sauron brought them down again, they were empty.

"Oops," he muttered, as the Ring plunged into the molten lava.

Saruman giggled, "That can't be good."

Indeed, it was not. With the Ring destroyed, nearly everything that would have happened, did. Aragorn became King, and married his beloved Arwen, Eowyn met Faramir during a bar fight in Minas Tirith (the Swinging Baboon Tavern, if I am not mistaken), and so forth.

That, mellyn-nin is what could have been had Frodo given the Ring over. Funny, how thousands of lives could have been saved had Frodo been allowed to do what he truly wanted.

**A/N- There it is. Now, I fully realize that most of the events in the beginning are from the movie, but it is just easier for me that way. Next up, what if nature called during a battle?**

**Lyndz**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N- Seriously? No comments? Okay… Anyways I will clear this up now, I am odd. Really odd. I think about weird stuff, and am **_**very **_**logical at times. Because my disclaimer is longer than normal, I'll cut this off now.**

**Disclaimer- (In case you hadn't already guessed). I thought it best for Aragorn to do today's disclaimer. evil grin**

**Aragorn- Lyndz doesn't own Lord of the Rings, she isn't Tolkien and is not making any money off this story thing. Lyndz also doesn't own Pepsi (although she'd love to), Mutant X, Lost, Charmed, The Simpsons, Harry Potter, any pink clothing, intelligence- is cut off by Lyndz**

**Lyndz- Hey! What are you doing?**

**Aragorn- Well, I figured that if I kept talking you wouldn't have any room for the chapter. Anyways, Lyndz does own the Fly Vanquisher of Doom, and a weird sense of humor, but not this pen, because technically she is borrowing it from her grandma.**

**Lyndz- Okay, this has gone on long enough. Since, I'm writing this, I can cut you off. And, if you were thinking technically, I wouldn't own very many things…**

**Chapter 2: What if "Nature Called"?**

Aragorn is a skilled man, and an equally talented warrior. His skills in battle could scare even the most stubborn orc. He is brave, noble, and clever. However, even the most gifted and experienced hero has his moments that are conveniently left out of the record books. Such situations include wrong choices, ignorant words, and the predicament he was in now.

He had to go. Very badly, might I add.

Fighting was becoming increasingly difficult for the poor man. He had to find a solution, and fast.

As the unrelenting wave of orcs diminished somewhat around him he spotted his answer, dressed in a green tunic, blond hair, and twin elven knives.

While Aragorn was struggling with his bodily functions, Legolas was having his share of struggles in the fight he was involved it.

Even a pointy-eared elven princeling such as Legolas, who mind you had taken down an Oliphant and its load single-handedly, could not defeat twenty orcs with the flick of a blade.

Spinning around to stab the orc attacking him, the Prince was relieved to find out that only two orcs remained of those who had assaulted him.

Easily, the elf gouged an orc behind him, while deftly avoiding a fatal slash from the one in front. With a final sweep of his ivory handled knives, Legolas decapitated the offending orc and breathed a brief sigh of relief.

However, a tap on his shoulder shook the Mirkwood Prince from his moment of peace. Whirling around, expecting an orc he had missed, the elf was surprised to see Aragorn, standing there with a painful expression on his face.

Quickly scanning his age-old friend for any serious wounds, he was relieved to find none.

On further inspection of the man's face, Legolas realized he had read wrong. What he had thought was pain, was in fact, discomfort. He wondered what was making his friend feel this way.

"Legolas," Aragorn whispered anxiously.

"What?" the elf replied, concern filling his voice.

"I," Aragorn faltered, as if trying to word his next statement differently, but gave up, "I have to pee!"

In his startled state, the elf didn't care that he was about to ask the same question twice, "What?!"

The Ranger repeated his words impatiently, "I. Have. To. Pee. Very badly."

"Well, can't you hold it?" Despite their strong friendship, Legolas never expected to have this conversation.

"No, not any longer. You've got to help me," Aragorn pleaded.

"Besides fetching you a nice outhouse in the middle of Pelenor Fields, I don't really think there's anything I can do."

"Please. Let me walk into Minas Tirith again with honor."

Legolas had to admit, the sight of Gondor's destined King finally returning to her in soiled clothing was funny, but the Prince could not let his friend suffer. So, fighting back laughter, Legolas said, "I still don't see how I can help you."

Aragorn had now crossed his legs and was hopping up and down on his toes, "All you have to do is cover my back. Please? I cannot hold it much longer."

Legolas snorted, still attempting to cover his mirth, "Please, Estel, you are acting like a child, and I dare say, you very much look like one too."

"Come on," the man begged, staring wildly around them.

"Alright, alright, I'll help," the elven Price finally gave in. "There, over by the downed mumakil. You can… relieve yourself there."

"Thank you, mellon-nin, a thousand times thank you."

As graceful as the man could without moving his legs too far apart, the future king scurried over to the Oliphant.

Feeling quite a bit more awkward than he had in a long time, Mirkwood's Price stood with his back to Elrond's adopted son, his sharp eyes watching, and keen ears listening for an attacker.

Thankfully, one did not come before Aragorn finished with his business, although a Harad Warrior did cut it close. Man and Elf went on their fight without another word spoken until well after the war had been won.

That night, as Legolas gazed into the never-ending night sky, Aragorn approached, having finished with healing Merry, Eowyn, and Faramir.

"Beautiful night, is it not?" Aragorn asked, stepping towards the elf.

"Yes, Earendil is very bright tonight. It reminds me of home."

Aragorn nodded his agreement, staring at the star.

"You know," Legolas began, a smirk appearing on his fair face, "I will have to inform Elladan and Elrohir what has transpired today."

Estel gasped, "You can't. Legolas, you know my brothers, I'll never live it down. And… if you do, I'll tell all of Rivendell and Mirkwood about that little incident with Lord Megildur. I'm sure your father would like to know the reason his friend stormed out of the palace was because you said his robe looked like a fril-

Legolas whirled around and fixed the man with an icy glare, "Do not finish that sentence if you would like to ever talk again. Fine, if it must be this way, I will not reveal to Elladan and Elrohir that their Estel nearly wet himself in one of the most important battles of his life. But, that story goes to the grave with you, understand? And if you do not stop laughing that may be sooner than you think!"

Instead of ceasing, Aragorn's mirth increased until the garden was full of human laughter. Perhaps Aragorn would make a good king after all…

**A/N- Yay! I'm done. Good thing too, because I cannot type today. Either that or around is now spelled, ariybd, and espection is the new expecting. I guess in Lyndzland, anything is possible. This chapter is pretty short, but it was the best I could come up with, so I guess that's it. I would really like some feedback, so please, will somebody review? 'Till next time,**

**Lyndz**


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